How it should ends
by VeryBigBadWolf
Summary: My take on how the amazing journey of the Winchesters across America sould ends...


**_Hi everyone!_**

**_I'm a french writer (with my other alias Dexterine) and I just wanted to know what you all thought about this little one-shot. It's inspired from a famous movie ending, I hope some of you will recognize it!_**

**_Thank you SO MUCH to DeanBeanWinchester who beta this so well and so _****_quickly! Thank you again!_**

* * *

**_How it should ends_**

The Arizona Sun on the black body of the Impala was merciless. It was an oven. It smelled like oil, sweat and old leather; the leather seats which were nearly melting, burning and oozing.

Dean could not detach his eyes from the landscape through the windshield. Finally he was there; The Grand Canyon. It was even more beautiful than he imagined. It was so perfect that he nearly forgot all those blue and red lights dancing in the mirrors.

It was the end of the journey. There was no escape this time. But he didn't care.

To his right, Sammy was breathing hard, still shaken up by the terrible chase through the desert. He was watching all around him, wild eyed, and a little lost. The sweat was running in burning drops across his back. A look in the mirror, revealing Hendrickson who was pacing back and forth, and he too understood, that this time, it was over.

Trough a megaphone a cop screamed,

"Cut the engine and put your hands where I can see them!"

Hendrickson was starting to stomp. He got them. Eventually. After 6 months on the run, he finally got them. Trapped at the end of the way with no other choice but to surrender. Ah! They made him run! They definitely did. White nights and black days, caffeine stuck in the veins, lexomil in the back pocket.

Now, he got them. He won. Check mate.

He smiled with the satisfaction of the lion which had isolated the antelope. This very predatory smile he only put on for the biggest catches.

The car stayed still, black dirty steel, heightened by the burning sun of the desert. The sand was flying in a ghostly ballet, harshly caressing this island of dark metal.

Inside the tension was palpable. Dean was taping lightly on the steering wheel. This very wheel he put his hands on a million times. His fingers perfectly fitted the bumps, like it had been made for him.

Sammy looked again in the rear view mirror and took a deep breath,

"Ok then, listen… let's not get caught." He said.

There was something in his voice that surprised even himself. Something off, something wild, somewhere between hope and excitement.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

Sam smiled. There were tears in his eyes, but he smiled through them.

"Let's keep going" Sam simply said.

"What do you mean?" asked Dean who knew perfectly well what his brother meant.

The younger brother looked through the windshield, through the dancing dust, the canyon which spread out in front of them.

"Go." He said.

Dean smiled back. He didn't really know why, but he did anyway.

"You're sure?"'

Some lost tears escaped from Sammy's eyes when he nodded.

"Yeah"

The wind and the sand were roaring against the steel. Dean turned up the radio where a crackling "Highway to Hell" was playing. He planted his eyes in his brother's, saying more by this simple act than if he had talk for days. Time went by slowly. Deadly.

Finally, he looked again at this bottomless pit, this wonderful canyon he had so waited for. The grip of his fingers around the wheel tightened. A lone tear came running on his cheek as he pressed the accelerator.

Hendrickson was not expecting that. He got them! He fucking got them! No! He started to run crazily after the car, cutting through a thick wall of dirt. But it was too late.

Sam's hand slid into Dean's. The big brother held tight to it. The speed was pressing him against the seat. He felt the burning leather against his skin. This familiar bite; it was his home. He felt the trembling of the engine. This ordinary sound, it was his life.

The Impala was running her last race. She, the loyal lover. She, who had always been there. She, who had never judged, never condemned, never give up. She, who had always been theirs and them who had always been hers. She will take them anywhere, as she had always done. She will take them away, one more time. One last time.

**_END_**


End file.
